Recital time is quickly bearing down on me, and I have spent So. Much. Time. on my main piece.
So. Much. Time. being from the first of June through now.
(We did spend about a month on Standards for a little open mic night at a cocktail bar/coffeehouse that fell through, and I missed a handful of lessons with all the medical drama and other whatnots, but that is STILL a whole lot of time I’ve spent on this song.)
Just this week I was at that point where I’ve practiced, I’ve studied other singers, I’ve listened to the same stinking accompaniment track about a million time. And the same stinking spots of the song were giving me the same stinking problems.
You hit the figurative wall. You may stop singing, cold turkey, for a few days. You won’t even hum a Top40 tune.
You delve into this coma. This tunnel. Think of an indoor firing range, the straight aisle between where you stand in your little cubical, and the distant sheet of paper which serves as your target. Round on repeat, your song plays, and you fire out the lyrics without so much as a thought.
Over and over. And over. And over.
Your voice doesn’t improve. You make everything worse, actually, because now your throat feels raw and you are so tired. So stinking tired. Malaised fatigue. You’re done with this song, you will never ever grasp the magic solution which would make you sound like the amazing opera singer you’ve been studying.
I said it this week. I said “I am quite tired of singing to this moon”.
And that probably reads as very staid and boring a quote to make, all Jane Banks in Mary Poppins and all, but no, it was made in my British Edwardian Queen of the Socialites mode. As if I was bossing around a wayward ladies’ maid, or snubbing a nouveau riche buccaneer.
Now read it.
“I am QUITE tired of singing to THIS MOON.”
(That nouveau riche social-climbing nobody MOON!)
Good grief. I really DID mean for this to be a quick few-sentence post, but look how we got bogged down in All The Words.
I was at the end of my song rope. Nervous and dwelling on all the exit strategies I could employ to escape performing.
The day turned into this long uncharacteristic day which saw me battling my way through the woods around the house, helping Knobby prep for a big project which gets started tomorrow. We tried to make it to the dump but ran out of time. Then we borrowed a trailer, went to Home Depot for project materials, dropped the trailer off at the house, and went BACK to HD to haul ANOTHER trailer — this one with machinery — to the house. It was a long day. No time for the usual routine, which is a whole lot of sitting/laying about the house, checking the internet every five minutes, etc.
Came home, so tired. Sat at computer “just for a minute”, played the accompaniment track out of habit . . . . BOOM.
The solution finally clicked.
Glory, glory, hallelujah.
Mesicku . . . nezhasni . . . nezhasni . . . Mesicku, nezhasni!!